A Doctor Who Advent
by Random Ruth
Summary: Drabbles/one-shots with events that happen on Christmas Day. From Christmas dinner to dancing monks, from piles of post to rickshaw rides - anything's possible. Current: Day 10 - The Daleks hatch a new plan: "What sort of tree is that, Pond?" As complete as it's ever going to be anyway.
1. The Doctor

**Author's Note:** _I found my Doctor Who advent calendar yesterday and each panel opens to reveal a picture of a character from the show. I thought it was a good source of prompts for drabbles/one-shots, but as I've started so late, chapters will be irregular. I'll try to be funny with these, and if you have any ideas for Christmas escapades then please let me know. Hope you like and review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Day One: The Doctor<strong>

Oh, I love Christmas. It's such a joyful time of the year, isn't it? Nothing could possibly go wrong... apart from that time with some aliens invading London, or that other time some other aliens invaded London, and when the Titanic nearly crashed into London... in fact, London at Christmas may not be the best place to go.

Now, Leadworth. Nothing could go wrong there when it's Christmas. Probably.

I'm visiting the Ponds (the in-laws, you could say) for Christmas this year. I pilot the TARDIS to our destination, an exciting and bumpy ride which only goes to show how experienced and skilled I am at the driving thing. I am about to point this out to my companion, but then remember that it is just myself and Sexy here – and she already knows how brilliant I am.

The old girl lands with a definite _thump_. I murmur a "Thank you," to her console and move swiftly to the door.

I pause here, my hand resting on the door handle, and mentally prepare myself to face the terrible wrath of Amelia Pond. For every time I land here, I have crushed her flowers.

She should be impressed by the fact that I can land my ship with such precision every single time, but instead I usually just get a thump on the arm. And I have to pretend it doesn't hurt.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

The door creaks closed behind me, and I give it a helpful pull so it locks. The garden still looks as it did the last time; an almost leafless hedge runs all around the edges, a lone tree in one corner with no leaves at all – instead they are crowded around its trunk at the bottom. In the middle of the space is a round tale with three chairs. I can imagine Amy sitting there, having tea and scones on a sunny afternoon. But there are no Ponds there, or anywhere in sight. I wonder where they are before my attention turns to my shoes, which are slowly sinking into Amy's flowerbed, taking me down with them.

I yelp (in a not-at-all girly way, might I add) and jump down from the height of the flowerbed, landing on the soft grass. Now my shoes are muddy and wet, thanks to the sopping grass.

Checking the time on my watch, along with the help of my uncanny ability to know the time, I find out that it's just after twelve thirty in the afternoon. The lack of snow almost makes me think that I have missed the twenty-fifth of December, but then the smell of cooking reaches my nostrils and I'm sure this is the right date. Good driver. Never forget that.

I squelch over to the back door, leaving muddy footprints in my wake. It must have been a very wet winter with the Ponds. I am about to open the door and grant myself entry to their household when I see a figure moving swiftly towards me through the distorted glass window. I jump backwards with much grace as Rory barrels into me.

He's out of breath, he's sweaty and frankly it looks like he's taken part in a war. He's bent over double, and I can only watch as he slowly gets his breath back. I can see the vapour from his fast and deep breaths rising to the heavens.

When he has composed himself, he stands tall, his grey eyes full to the brim with fear.

I place an awkwardly comforting hand on his arm.

"What happened, Rory? Are you in trouble?" I ask him in the most calming voice I can muster at this possibly dire time.

"Amy's cooking Christmas dinner," Rory replies, still in some sort of shock, "and she made me help her."

"I should leave now, shouldn't I?"

"It would be for the best," Rory nods. Ah, always brave, our Rory. Always ready to sacrifice himself for others. "Save yourself."

I give him a reassuring grin that also conveys my gratitude and turn on my heel, taking massive strides across the garden to the flowerbed which also has the TARDIS on it.

Before I can get there, however, a familiar Scottish voice followed by a familiar Scottish woman flow out of the door. "Doctor!"

I wince, and reluctantly, turn to face Amy. She is looking as great as ever, not a ginger hair out of place. I can only imagine what happened to Rory, what with his hair unkempt and sticking up in all directions. Before I can speak, she says, "Come and help me stuff the turkey."

Drat.


	2. Commander Strax

**A/N: **_Let's just pretend that this happens on Christmas Day, okay? Thanks :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Day Two: Commander Strax<strong>

I take a huge breath into my newly cloned lungs and open my eyes. The world is such a purple place, or so I think until the military information that was pumped into my head as I grew in my green goo comes to the surface, and I realise I'm on the Sontaran home world, Sontar and that all of our lights are purple.

As I come further into my senses, I notice that I'm in a small room and that there's someone with me. I pull my umbilical chord out and it sinks below the surface, already beginning to grow another soldier.

That's what I am – a soldier. I know that, and I already want to begin to conquest and destroy the Rutans. I look up and take a second glance at the Sontaran lady who's standing beside the tank, holding up a towel. I feel my cheeks warm when I realise what it's for, and I hastily ask her: "What is your name?"

She smiles and hands me the white towel, soon turned green as I wrap it around myself. "Nurse Phlana," she answers, stroking her magnificent beard.

I step out of the tank and she points to my blue-ish armour neatly laid out in a corner, but there is something missing. I know what it is instantly.

"Where is the gun?"

Phlana shifts nervously on her feet, before she says, "Uh... you won't need one. You're... you're..."

"Yes?" I urge impatiently. I can almost hear her saying something like, 'You kill and destroy with your handsome face alone'. Sadly, that is not what she says.

"A nurse."

"A _what_?"

"You're an army nurse. Your genes have been spliced to become the ultimate nursing machine..."

"Is that why my chest feels funny?" I interrupt. I glance down. _Oh, no_. Phlana suddenly looks even more nervous than she did before, the weak and feeble woman.

"For lactic fluid," she says quickly and quietly. Before I can say any more, there is a splashing sound from the cloning tank. "Oh, next one's coming." She almost sounds grateful. Then she shoves me out the door and throws my armour out after me. The door is slammed in my face, and the last I see of her is her perfectly shaven head.

I pick up the breast plate and notice that the chest area is a lot bigger than it should be. I groan.

All I wanted to do was to kill and destroy for the glory of Sontar. Was that so much to ask?


	3. Captain Avery

**Day Three: Captain Avery**

I am in the captain's chair, naturally, and Toby is in the chair next to mine. The tube is no longer needed to keep the boy alive and has been removed for over a week now. He has been revelling in his newfound freedom, and I thank the Siren for looking after us all so well. He turns to look at me with his piercing blue eyes, smiling, and I cannot help myself, I smile back.

I have been trying to keep count of the time, and I have so far managed to keep the tally every day. We've been at space (at sea just doesn't work anymore) for around a month. I know what day it is, roughly: Christmas Day. I didn't tell Toby when I worked it out, so he's still in the dark. I have a few ideas of what to do though. I turn my attention back to navigating. There seems to be a planet ahead, the nature of which I have no idea. I tap the 'compass' and the needle turns in the direction of said planet. That's good. We must go there.

Excusing myself from the bridge and leaving all of our lives in the capable hands of Toby, I make my way to the parlour. There is a cupboard in there that contains foodstuffs. Like the rest of the ship, the walls are a very pale grey, smooth and bare. The ship could do with a few children's drawings to liven it up. I'll mention it to Toby later.

In this pure white cupboard lie several shelves. There is a room beyond with even more to eat. The cupboard, however, is unlike the room in the sense that the food here actually looks like food – not some mush in bags, but what I can tell are vegetables and meats, all perfectly preserved and ready to eat. I have been saving these for a special occasion, and this seems like the perfect one.

There is no woman to cook, so I take it upon myself to light a fire and cook the meat. The vegetables are chopped by my dagger and I'm careful not to injure myself – the Siren is a very protective creature, and I certainly don't want the hassle of a trip to the medical area.

After some time, luck and much careful cooking, the meal is ready. Beef and carrots, nothing special, but compared to mush in a bag it will be a wonderful surprise for Toby. I dig in the drawers and find simple cutlery and square plates.

Balancing the meal in my arms, I make my way to the bridge. The planet I saw before is much closer now. Green and blue splodges cover the surface and it seems to have white cotton wool floating around it. Toby hears me enter and says, "It's home."

Could it really be? Earth? We had hardly been navigating that badly, could we? I should correct myself there – it is I alone who did the navigation. No one else is to blame. I must have taking us in circles.

"Earth?"

"That's what the ship says," Toby confirms. He must catch a whiff of the food in my arms, for the swivels around in his chair. His eyes light up and he breaks into a toothy grin. "Is that for us?" he asks, staring in awe at the proper food.

I grin back, handing him a plate, knife and fork which he takes without hesitation.

"Merry Christmas, Toby."

And if we are truly going home, then what a wonderful Christmas it will be.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Not funny exactly. Just sweet.  
><em>


	4. River Song

**Day Four: River Song**

Just on time (unlike some people could mention) my daily pile of letters arrive. I have no idea why I am graced with so much junk mail – perhaps the Doctor has something to do with it, possibly as revenge for the many pranks I have played on him. Nonetheless, I can see a large package atop the usual pile of useless letters and catalogues asking me to buy a jumper. The colour of the wrapping paper is TARDIS blue, so he's obviously gone and sent me something.

At this time of year, the prison guards go a bit mad. My cell is framed with surprisingly neat tinsel of various colours which sparkle in the regular storms that harass the accurately named Stormcage. A tree stands the the corridor, covered in shiny gold balls and fairy lights.

The post-bearer is arriving at my cell now as another guard unlocks the door with jangling keys and lets the post-bearer in. He looks at me in what must be shock and leaves the pile on my prison bed. The springs groan and creak under the weight. The man is out of breath and makes a quick exit. I grin at his back as he hurries off to find more post to bear. The door is locked swiftly behind him.

I turn to the pile of paper on my bed and pick up the blue package, my prison address sprawled all over one side in his writing. Almost like an excited child on Christmas morning, I shake it. There is not a sound.

I sit down cross-legged on the cold concrete floor. Slowly and with extreme care, I remove the blue paper. The sound it makes as it tears is surprisingly satisfying. The blue paper discarded, I'm now holding a white box with a photograph of a gun on it – and not just any gun, but the one that I had been talking to him about wanting. Ever more confused (since when would the Doctor of all people send me something like that?), I shake the box again. There is still no sound, but the box has weight. I raise an eyebrow and open a flap at one end.

My hand moves inside the box and lands on something soft. I pull it out.

It's something knitted, that's for sure. It's gun-shaped, but not a gun. And dear God, it's pink.

A note on red and green paper falls out of the box.

_Dear River,_

_I thought you would like something knitted. So I got Amy to teach me knitting. Enjoy your gun cosy._

_Merry Christmas!_

_Love,  
>The Doctor<em>

I feel around the box again and pull out three one kilogram masses, bronze and perfectly round. That explains why it was so heavy.

It also explains why the Doctor is going to get a knitted TARDIS cosy for Christmas.


	5. Dorium Maldovar

**Day Five: Dorium Maldovar**

Christmas was so much easier when I wasn't just a head. I could make decorations, bake myself multiple cakes and sell dodgy computer equipment to the highest bidder. Those were the days. My body's still out there, somewhere, being a Headless Monk. Sometimes I wonder why I can't receive a visit from my body, but there are probably sacred laws against it.

To keep myself entertained I can talk to the other heads. The skulls of the poor aren't at all talkative, but the rich people have plenty to talk about when they're not having their beauty sleep. The Dame of Halger has a very interesting life story, but she hates the fact that she can never apply make up again. Then there's Sir Percan – he had a rather unfortunate and poorly timed beheading at the hands of the Headless Monks; they got him at a fancy dress party, so now he's to spend the rest of his life covered in clown make-up. There are several others, but they don't talk just as much.

I like to stay up while the others are sleeping and browse the internet using my Wi-Fi connection, thanks to the media chip in my head. I look up YouTube for the latest videos.

There's one on my personal home page called 'Merry Christmas from the Headless Monks' and my curiosity is sparked, so I will it to play. It is honestly the maddest thing I have ever seen.

It starts with a black picture, and then fades into a clip of a monk doing a little boogie. While this is happening, music starts to play. At first it is so quiet that I cannot hear the words, but then a woman sings, "All I want for Christmas is you, yeah..." and the whole song becomes audible.

Another monk swings his hips to the beat.

"Make my wish come true..."

A monk that is obviously my runaway body is kicking his legs into the air, far higher than I can remember being capable of when we were attached.

"Oh, baby..."

Several monks now in a row, Stetsons on their heads. It looks like they've used a green screen as these monks appear to be in a desert.

"Your laughter fills the air..."

'Laughing' monks; their hands on their bellies, rocking back and forth as if they were sharing in a very good joke.

"All I want for Christmas is you!" The song ends with hundreds of monks pointing at the viewer. A message in a simple font appears over the frozen image.

'HAVE FAITH THIS CHRISTMAS. JOIN THE HEADLESS MONKS.'

I add it to my favourites list.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _I've had to remove day six, the Buzzer Ganger because it wasn't of a very high standard. In fact it was terrible. So from now on the numbers will appear a day ahead._


	6. The Shark

**A/N: **_It's the shark from A Christmas Carol, just a reminder :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Day Seven: The Shark<strong>

I've got that odd feeling in my stomach again. It only appears the odd time, but for some reason when it happens, I feel the urge to leave the cloud belt. Without really thinking about it, I swim downwards. I almost feel like I've lost control of my own fins and I stop short of panicking, the air in my gills filtering faster as I descend.

The clouds clear and the town comes into view, narrow streets flowing in-between tiny homes like veins. Towering above them is some sort of tower and it is shooting light up into the clouds. But I don't stop – I keep going down not of my own will.

I seem to be heading towards this tower and I can hear beeping. There is one beep far away and another very close, again and again. I quickly realise that the closer beep is inside me – so that must be the cause of the funny feeling.

I land at the base of the tall tower. An old man and a younger woman are standing there with huge grins on their faces; the man is holding the girl's hand and a green stick in the other. There is a rickshaw and harness beside them. The beeping stops and I growl, but the woman opens her mouth and the most beautiful and calming sound comes out. It calms me down and I swim down to rest at her feet. She kneels beside me, stroking a soothing hand over my back repeatedly.

I am vaguely aware of the man attaching something to me, but it is lost on me as I listen to the singing.

"...Let in the light of your bright, bright shadow..." she sings loudly, the volume only making it even more relaxing.

She moves away but I stay put. She's still singing.

"When you are here, Silence is all you know..."

She stops then and I jerk awake. I feel alert again all of a sudden and I take off into the sky...

But something is hanging on to me. I go in circles a few times, trying to work out what is dragging itself behind me, but all I can hear is giggling and I can't see a thing. Then one side of my mouth is pulled and I change course, following the pull. There is more laughter and some cheering now.

I must be giving the two people a ride in that rickshaw, so I play along. I duck and dive through the streets, swimming as quickly as I can to give them some fun. If I do a good job, perhaps the lady will sing again.

After some time, I slow down and the woman starts to sing again. I take them both back to the safety of the ground before I become too relaxed and loose my senses to that beautiful melody.

At the base of the lower I land the rickshaw. The singing doesn't subside, but I notice this time that it isn't as powerful as before, weaker.

"Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright..."

She kneels beside me again, this time stroking my nose. The man removes the harness but I barely notice. The woman stands up and stops singing. The man takes her hand again and she wipes a solitary tear from her cheek.

I swim upwards on instinct, feeling oddly sad and uplifted at the same time. I wonder what is wrong with the woman, but then I reach the cloud belt once more and set about my life's work again, continuing my constant search for food.


	7. A Cyberman

**Day Eight: A Cyberman**

The Cybership is a vast thing indeed; walls of steel shine with the aid of bright white artificial lights, long corridors with roofs ten feet high stretch the length of the ship and huge elevators take my fellow Cybermen between the different floors.

I currently stomp along one of the corridors alone. My boots make a satisfying din on the floor.

_Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

All I can hear is the dull thrumming of the huge engines and my boots.

_Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

Then suddenly: "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..."

It is a horrible, agonising (if I could feel pain) sound and I place my metal hands on my metal handles in an attempt to lessen the noise. If anything it gets louder still, so I remove my hands.

"...Oh what fun it is to ride on a one-horse..."

"Ahhh!" I cry, the agony of the terribly out-of-tune singing blaring in my handles causes me to stop stomping the corridor and shake.

"...Dashing through the snow..."

I search my data-banks for the voice print related to the song, and it comes up with a simple answer.

Doctor.

The greatest enemy of the Cybermen is here, on this ship and making my handles into a pair of headphones.

He must be deleted.

I try my upmost to ignore the irritating noise filling my head and stomp along the corridor once more.

"Through." _Stomp_. "The." _Stomp_. "Fields." _Stomp_. "We." _Stomp_. "Go."

I arrive at my destination, a secondary flight deck that very rarely contains any Cybermen. There is no door, just an opening in the wall.

The Cybermen have no need of doors.

In the room is the Doctor, sworn enemy of the Cybermen singing into a microphone tunelessly. He is facing away from me and he doesn't hear me enter despite my want to make a very loud and stompy entrance. I am mildly disappointed on this front.

"Laughing all the way, ha ha ha..." the Doctor sings, rocking his body from side to side with the music.

I have heard enough – my handles feel like they're about to explode.

"Doctor!"

On the sound of his name he stops singing and whips around to face me, a massive idiotic grin on his stupid, rectangular face. My handles can breathe again.

"You will be deleted!" I shout, finishing the only part of my plan I had planned.

"Aw, come on, Stompy," he says and I think I like that name, "wasn't it a wonderful song?"

"No. What have you done to my handles?" I ask as I can't help wondering what on Mondas he's doing.

"I was just spreading the Christmas cheer. I connected my microphone to the network and it was blasted into all of your ears/handles," he explains with a grin, holding the silver microphone up for me to see. "Genius or what?"

I guess I'm supposed to answer this.

"It is what."

"You were supposed to say genius." It is his turn to look mildly disappointed.

"Not genius. What."

"Fine," the Doctor huffs, folding his arms across his tweedy chest and pouting.

"You will be deleted," I say again, regaining my composure.

The Doctor sighs. "Always with the deleting..." he mumbles under his breath, but the circuits in my handles still pick it up.

"Delete!" I shout again, raising my arm and starting my stomp towards him. I stomp in fourth gear, moving to fifth as I make it halfway across the room. The Doctor raises his arm and there is a leather-covered device on it. He presses a few buttons and disappears with a crackle of energy and flash of blue light.

When the others come I will say that he overpowered me, and not that I got jammed in my gears.


	8. Idris

**A/N:**_ Big news, I've managed to catch up with the days! Yay! Let's just hope I can keep it up. :) This one's a bit more subdued and was pretty hard to write, but I think I did ok but not great._

* * *

><p><strong>Day Nine: Idris<strong>

I exist everywhere and everywhen. Pick a date and I could tell you the weather, perhaps even show you.

The Doctor, my beautiful idiot is in a bit of a mood at the moment. My last destination for him was the latest in a long line in his search for the Child of the TARDIS, Melody Pond. I know she's going to hurt me with her gun in the future, but I already forgive her for it. She's lost and the Doctor can't find her.

He's sitting in my pilot's seat, looking very sorry for himself. He sighs a bit, not even seeming to have the heart to fiddle with my circuits. That's not like him. He needs cheering up.

I wait until he leaves to aimlessly wander my corridors to set my plan into motion. In less than a second I have decorated the control room for the human celebration of Christmas. Coloured tinsel on my railings, the hat stand accompanied with a huge fur tree and 'Merry Christmas Everyone' playing quietly from my speakers. That never fails to cheer him up.

I can feel him coming back to the control room (and I may have helped by rearranging the corridors so that he gets here a bit faster).

He arrives and I can tell that he's smiling as soon as he sees what I've done for him. We have a psychic connection, him and I, and his spirits are lifted and so are mine. I give him a gentle nudge in the right direction and he walks over to the tree, jangling a bauble.

"Thanks, dear," he says fondly, thinking that is all I have planned for him. How wrong he is.

"Don't thank me before… yet…" I stammer. Tenses are still difficult.

He spins around, looking confused, his eyebrows (or what he has of them) disappearing into his hairline. He opens his mouth and closes it again in a perfect impression of a fish.

"Looking at the screen," I command him to do. He takes a moment to work out what I mean so I must have gotten the tense wrong again. Then he does go to my console and spin the screen around so he can see me.

"Oh…" he trails off, his face splitting into a grin.

He grins because I've done something very clever – rerouted a few power circuits and taken the deconfribulator into a state of flux so I can talk to him and tell him all is not lost.

"Hello, Sexy," he says to the image of Idris on the scanner screen.

"Hello," I reply with a tilt of my head. He laughs.

"Why have you done all this?" he asks me, gesturing with his hands madly at the Christmas decorations.

"To cheer you up, of course. You've been so… _alive_ recently and that can be a happy thing too. I just wanted to remind you of that."

He looks to the floor then, shaking his head, hair flopping wildly. "I can't find her. I'm beginning to think I never will."

"You will. We know you do," I reassure. He doesn't ask about the use of we, so I don't expand on it. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"How long have you got?"

"As long as you want."

And so he talks, pours his heart out and I listen, even though I know how everything will pan out, because that is what he needs.

He needs his Sexy.


	9. The Supreme Dalek

**A/N: **_Oh I loved writing this one. It has to be my favourite so far. LOL!_

* * *

><p><strong>Day Ten: The Supreme Dalek<strong>

An idea almost perfectly formed in my supreme mind, I glide across the smooth floor to the platform that rises from the ground so I can rise above my fellow Daleks (I could levitate, but I am the boss here and I do not need to waste so much energy on such a silly thing). Now rising steadily, I pick out the other four colourful Daleks of the Paradigm – the orange Scientist, blue Strategist, yellow Eternal and the red Drone. It briefly crosses my mind that I should have told the Strategist about this plan of mine, but the moment passes as quickly as it had arrived and I am now at the correct height to make my address.

"MY FELLOW DALEKS," I boom and the others turn around to face me – their heads swivel around first, closely followed by their bodies. "I HAVE CREATED A STRATAGEM WHICH WILL RID US OF THE DOCTOR ONCE AND FOR ALL."

If possible, the Strategist looks offended. "WHAT IS THIS STRATAGEM?"

"I WILL GET TO THAT, STRATEGIST, IF YOU WOULD STOP INTERRUPTING ME." That shuts its mouth. "AS I WAS PREVIOUSLY BOOMING, MY PLAN WILL RID US OF THE TROUBLESOME TIME LORD FOR GOOD. WE WILL DISGUSE OURSELVES AS CHRISTMAS TRESS ON THE PLANET EARTH. THE DOCTOR'S HUMAN COMPANIONS WILL PURCHASE US FOR USE ON THE TARDIS AND ONCE ON BOARD WE WILL REVEAL OURSELVES AND DESTROY THEM ALL."

I finish my announcement in a higher-pitched voice, my excitement getting the better of me. There is a moment's silence as the words sink in.

"I LIKE IT," says the Scientist.

"IT IS VERY WELL CONSTRUCTED," agrees the Drone. Well of course it is – the Drone couldn't think of a plan if it slapped it across the panel. I ignore this comment, instead waiting for the Strategist's opinion. That's the one that matters most, even though I am the Supreme and will carry on with my plan regardless, protocol demands that I at least ask for its opinion.

I grow impatient. "YOUR OPINION, STRATEGIST?"

A nod of the plunger. "EXCELLENT."

"THEN SET COURSE FOR PLANET EARTH."

...

We have been likened to many things – pawn, pepper pot and even meerkat (don't ask, I shan't tell) – so decorating ourselves as Christmas trees is not too much of a stretch in all honesty. I mean, we are roughly the right shape, so as I am now covered in green pine needles which stick into my panels and places I didn't even know existed, I look the part.

I'm in a shop, a discount store, on sale for £20.99. I stand completely still, in line with other trees – real ones. The other members of the Dalek Paradigm are in different shops to give us a better chance to be bought by the Doctor's companions.

A woman with orange hair leads a man with hair of a mousey brown colour through the threshold of the shop by the hand. She points at me and my fellow tress with a grin on her face.

So far it has taken all of my willpower not to shout "EXTERMINATE!" and go on a murderous rampage, killing all inferior humans on sight. I restrain myself from killing these two above all others as I need them alive, and also if I kill them it would blow my cover.

They come over to the row of trees and the woman inspects every one while the man looks like he would rather be elsewhere. I almost hold my breath as the pair reaches me. She ruffles some of the needles and thankfully they don't fall off (I must thank the Eternal for its eternal super glue). The woman raises an eyebrow, shrugs and moves on to the next one.

It is a few minutes until she returns into my line of sight. She must have inspected every tree, and I'm hoping she picks me – it is an essential part of the master plan.

Thankfully, she points out me to the shopkeeper and he nods. The mousey-haired man hands the money over and they leave the shop. The plan is in motion.

...

"What sort of tree is _that_, Pond?"

The Doctor points a disapproving finger in my direction.

I'm in the TARDIS now and am placed in a very nice position beside the hat stand. Is it very warm in here, or is it just me?

"It's a _Christmas tree_, idiot," the woman replies indignantly.

"Well, what shape is it meant to be?" asks the Doctor.

The red-haired woman falters at this. "It's... it's... modern art?"

The mousey man scoffs. "Amy, it's terrible."

"I don't think so, Rory." She gives him a sharp look and he sighs, but doesn't say any more.

"I've seen modern art," says the Doctor, "and that is not it."

It's really hot in here.

But my body temperature is not relevant at the moment. I must reveal myself and kill them all!

"I AM NOT MODERN ART," I correct and the three incompetent humanoids freeze. "I AM THE SUPREME DALEK." A pause for dramatic effect (who said I didn't love my job?).

"EXTERMINATE!"

"Run!" shouts the Doctor, pushing the humans away and like a bicycle down a hill, this push-off makes them run faster. He takes off as well and suddenly it looks like I'll have to pursue them. They are behind the console now, going up stairs and will soon vanish into a corridor.

I fire.

It misses the Doctor by a whisker. I set off after them, levitating up the stairs and onto the glass floor of the control room. Here I glide.

"EXTERMINATE!"

I fire again.

This time it hits the wall, sending sparks into the air. The woman shrieks.

It's really, _really_ hot in here.

I realise all too late that the needles are blocking my vent at the back and I am overheating.

And so I burst into flames.

Cursing the other Daleks for their stupidity in coming up with such a stupid plan, I have no choice but to abandon my mission.

"EMERGENCY TEMPORAL SHIFT!" I yell and I disappear.

I live to exterminate another day.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _I'm afraid I'll have to end it here. I've gotten too far behind to catch up in time for Christmas. Merry Christmas everyone!_


End file.
